


The City of Attraction

by mollymauked



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Admiration, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Crush, Awkward Tension, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Episode: c02e075 Rime and Reason, F/M, Falling In Love, Mentions of Astrid, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, OR IS IT, One-Sided Attraction, POV Caleb Widogast, Touch-Starved, Wildemount Campaign Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 22:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20347756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollymauked/pseuds/mollymauked
Summary: She is blue. She is blue and laughs all the time, especially now.





	The City of Attraction

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own none of this franchise.

* * *

She is blue. She is blue and laughs all the time, especially now. Though this was most likely a laugh of relief. He can barely take a glance in her direction, to see if that was true or not; before two hands are wrapped around his forearm, squeezing so tight he feels it will leave a fine mark. He looks anyway, eyes meeting a grin that was all teeth and joy. His own eyes widen just barely as he's tugged down only some, his own lips not quite a smile but not a frown either.

"Oh, Caleb~!" Jester exclaimed, right in his ear.

"_Thatwassoclose! _You know?" The latter sentence was a mere fevered whisper, as if a secret just for the two of them.

He is...surprised. The last dragon they faced, things did not end as smoothly as one, two, dimension door. He could still see the fear behind her eyes inside his mind. Yet the eyes that stare at him now are...not at all that way. They shine, much like herself. No wonder she is the Sapphire, no? The Ruby must miss her so. He could imagine such sorrow Marion Lavorre felt at the moment and Jester for her. It must be, to be parted from someone cherished so dearly, a far too intimate feeling he could relate to. 

He thinks that maybe it would be good for her to message her mother, thinks to suggest it to her even. It would help her...but-...but that can wait for now. He lets Jester hold onto him as much as she likes, and pretends he does not see the eyes of a small goblin looking over at this fine pair Jester and he made. Another figure who was close by was his cat, though was not as interested in him as Nott perhaps. Frumpkin, the Fey familiar remains sat, in silence, steady as ever, upon his shoulder. 

Not that he imagined such things. How could he? It was true, she was his friend. He had resisted the title for so long, had desperately clawed at the edge, tried to pull back. This group though, it was difficult to keep a distance. Beauregard had made that clear to him...plenty of times. He would have to speak to the monk again as well, a later time no doubt but he would. 

"What do you think, Caleb?" 

His chin lifted, brows buried between eyes "Hn? Ja?"

There must have been something said as he was lost in his head. His eyes skimmed over the rest of the group, searching for the lost bit of information that had just been exchanged--an unusual task for himself, he found, having given information, knowledge, grave focus when traveling with this group. And yet, he had lost himself in Jester's eyes. 

He managed to see Beau and Fjord dragging their feet, eyes casted down. Caduceus, the cleric had his eyes fixed forward, yet they seemed to wander towards the half-orc on more than one occasion. Nott the Brave remained on his other side, though had finally took her eyes off him and Jester, and was currently comparing flowers with their new found ally, Reani, whom had _quite _the collection of flowers.

Their silence clashed with Jester and him. He could feel his heart jolt within his chest at the very thought. He swallowed, and found his mouth dry. As he stared, and she stared back, he felt a familar rush go throughout his entire being. The hair stood up on his arms and neck straight away. Jester must expect an answer from him, he should pick up his jaw and find one.

Jester tilted her head, "D'you think that Fjord will be able to get his sword fixed?"

Oh, yes.

The sword.

That had been the reason they went. The itch of the transportation spell still lingers as he reaches out, patting the hands on his forearm. His fingers linger on Jester's knuckles longer than he intends when he thinks to speak again. Whether or not she notices, her hand does not pull away from his touch. He can remember how close and willing, and open, she had been upon their first meeting. He...not so much, no. But that had been then and this was now. And he was not put off by being...this way with her, whatever this _way _was for them both. He liked...how this felt. 

He hopes his words do not sound as skittish as his insides do, "We shall see, I suppose."

Caleb nodded, though he cannot be sure, not completely, "Otherwise it will be for naught."

It was not meant as a callous remark. He truly did hope this could be of some assistance to their friend. Fjord had struggled greatly, far more than he had originally thought. A mistake--on his part, yes. Caduceus, more than any of them, had been completely sure of this task needing to be done in the present, rather than later. And now they were back here, in this place, this town, heading back to the one with the rest of the tools with the breath of an ancient dragon on their hands. He would have thought the uncertainty was still in the air regarding all of this, even with everything done. However, his comment did not prove sufficient for Jester.

Her own eyebrows burrowed, "Oh, no. No, no." She lets go of his arm with one hand, to wave it in the air for emphasis. 

Her hand swings in front of his face for a moment, by accident, though it did have him nearly stumble over his own feet, "Oh no? You don't have any, uh, worries, Jester?" 

"I can tell, Caleb." She presses a finger to her lips, as if in deep thought, "We did it perfectly. In, out, without anyone hurt this time." He glanced down, only for a brief moment, at those lips.

The sting was not as sharp now, however, it persisted. Her comment had been said and he had felt it before he could brace himself properly. He had tried not to think of Yasha, or Mollymauk, or anyone else suffering in the Mighty Nein. The unearned guilt ate away at his insides each time he did. This had not been the cleric's intention, he was sure, to cause an internal conflict. So, he dashes it away to the back of his head though, with great misfortune, it will not linger there forever. 

As he chewed at the inside of his cheek, he was biting back words he _could_ say now, that could, logically, _eventually_, be said but, perhaps, should not be. Jester, however, continued on, not seeming to notice the flinch behind Caleb's eyes at the previous statement. And a new fear crosses his mind, as he thinks that Astrid would not have noticed either, her that was so forward with words too, yet so different from Jester at the same time. _Bren_ would have wanted to discuss this matter, to contribute more to the discussion rather than short sentence replies.

The line between Caleb and Bren had been so...**_solid_** before. The lines were getting...blurred and _he did not like that_. Yet the urge tugged at him each time he looked to Jester, spoke to her, was...at her side. He wanted to tell her more of Astrid, of the person he knew, alas that was not in the cards for today--and most likely never really would be. Though he had been proven wrong before. He should have asked to walk with Beauregard. 

The blue Tiefling practically squeaked, "How _perfect_ are we outsmarting an _entire dragon_. Like, we did _so good_." There was no sense of doubt left on Jester's words, "We are getting so much better at this planning thing, Caleb." 

Caleb swallowed again, and did his to squash his pessimism, for the time being. His thoughts started to fall back, with the rest for now and the Mighty Nein's steps almost seemed to muffle. His eyes stayed on the blue tiefling, as she beamed and flailed her free arm, the other wrapped around his. He almost pretends not to notice how her fingers have slid around his own. He does not remember the last time he felt such a warmth that did not come from his spellbook.

"Perfect." He finally let his lips tug, and it was not a frown that took to his face, "Ja." 


End file.
